


Two Sleepy People

by magnetgirl



Category: A League of Their Own (1992)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, F/M, Pining, Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-19 20:10:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17008398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnetgirl/pseuds/magnetgirl
Summary: Jimmy struggles to define Dottie and his feelings for her.





	Two Sleepy People

**Author's Note:**

  * For [outruntheavalanche](https://archiveofourown.org/users/outruntheavalanche/gifts).



> I love this movie and this relationship, thank you for providing me an opportunity to think it through.

"Dottie Hinson is a star."

The reporter looks surprised. Not surprised at the words, everyone agrees Dottie's the It Girl of the league. She gifted, she's gorgeous, she's got people falling over themselves to get her attention and no one ever does.

No, he's surprised at the way Jimmy says it. Off hand, the way he says everything, but with a conviction that contradicts the tone, a commitment seldom employed. Like he's not just saying Hinson's the star of the All American Girls Professional Baseball League. Or even that she's the Ingrid Bergman of baseball. He says it like she's the brightest star in the sky. Like she's Polaris, a guiding light, or Venus, familiar but unattainable.  

"The best player in the league?"

"Yes."

He answers without hesitation, his lips curling up slightly at some private joke or memory. The reporter leans in.

"And what's the best thing about her?"

Jimmy blinks, turns, squints, his attention drawn for the first time to the man beside him, his pencil poised, his eyes bright, waiting for a profound or poignant or possibly personal response.

"Huh?"

The reporter purses his lips and repeats the question, clearly, "What is the best thing about Dottie Hinson?"

Jimmy's mouth drops open, just slightly, just enough to draw his tongue across his bottom lip as he considers his answer. 

 

The best thing about Dottie Hinson is her form. Her talent, her ability. She's as good as any man. As good as he is, as good as he was. Better, he admits in the confines of his thoughts, because she has to do it in a skirt, always smiling, with the whole world telling her she's a sideshow. A distraction. 

Well. She _is_ distracting.

But Dottie's what they call a natural.

The way she plays. The way she crouches in the dirt, dust puffing up under her skirt, uncomfortable as all get, but she ignores it. Her eye is on the ball. On the pitch and the pitcher, the bat and the batter. She sees all the possibilities, ready to react so quick no one sees what she's doing til it's done. She's got something you can't coach. You just gotta get out of the way.

The best thing about Dottie Hinson is her baseball acumen. She's the real deal. Honestly, these girls, this team, the league - they surprised him. They really are ball players. They know the game and they love the game. And they can play the game. But with Dottie. . . it's more. She gets it, she feels it on some kind of primal level. She was running the show when he pissing this opportunity away. Often literally.

She doesn't hold it against him, either. Well, she did, but. But she didn't. She gave him guff and then she gave him authority. She didn't need to do that. But she did because the team is what matters. The game is what matters. That's how he knows she gets it. 

The best thing about Dottie Hinson is her attitude. She sets a tone. For the girls, for the opposition, for the audience. She's confident, she's a leader. She's a presence, and she knows it, and she uses it.  She's self-aware. Sometimes it's scary. When her eyes narrow and her lips flatten and he can almost hear gears turning inside her head. Calculating some kind of cost benefit analysis for whatever action she's contemplating. It keeps her steps ahead of the competition and it lands her on the cover of _Life_ magazine. And sometimes, when he catches her watching him, or her body brushes his and she doesn't immediately pull away, or when she leans in so close her breath tickles his cheek. . . Sometimes it drives him crazy.

She's reserved. If he didn't know her, he'd find her aloof. If he didn't know her, he'd resent her. But he knows her. He knows her.  

The best thing about Dottie Hinson is her body. The length of her legs, the curve of her breasts. She fills the uniform but it doesn't matter what she's wearing. It's the way she wears it. 

He's never wanted for women. He's famous enough to be attractive, mediocre enough to be approachable. His personality leaves a lot to be desired but that doesn't matter to women seeking a brush with celebrity and it feeds the ones who want to rescue him from himself. But those relationships, if you can even call them that, they were about him. And the women were interchangeable. Even, if he's honest, his two ex-wives.

Dottie could never be an anonymous lay. His relationship with Dottie, whatever it is, or was, or will be, his relationship with Dottie is about her. 

The best thing about Dottie Hinson is her sense of humor. She doesn't let him wallow or take himself too seriously. And she has this laugh, this laugh that's barely there but sometimes sustains him for days.

The best thing about Dottie Hinson is how she listens. He didn't know how badly he needed a friend until she let him in. She trusts him and it makes him trust her. She listens so well she hears what he's afraid to say. He doesn't know how she does it but he's come to rely on it. On her.

The best thing about Dottie Hinson is her tenacity. The way she gets in his head. She doesn't let him get away with sliding by. She has this idea of who he could be. Not what he thinks he should be. Not what we was. And not who he is. She knows who he is, she even accepts it, accepts him. But as a work in progress instead of a has been. It's annoying the way she cares if he drinks or swears or picks a fight for no reason. But she cares because she cares. She cares what happens to him. When was the last time anyone cared enough to figure him out. 

The best thing about Dottie Hinson is her vulnerability. The little crinkle between her eyebrows when she's worried, when she's scared, when she looks away and hides her eyes and then - looks back. It's her eyes when she looks back. So big, so wide, so easy to get lost in. But that crinkle is a tether.

He doesn't want to save her any more than she wants to save him. That's not what either of them need. 

The best thing about Dottie Hinson is the way her body fits against his.

It's the middle of the night on the bus. Her eyes get heavy after hours of talking and her head falls against his chest of its own accord. Her curls are mashed against the dip of his unbuttoned collar, soft on his skin, like a kitten, and her arm creeps across his lap for comfort she'd never admit to wanting awake. Slowly he drops his arm over her shoulder, across her back, pulls her close, and she fits, she fits, she fits. As if she belongs there, tucked against his body, curled into his arms. As if she belongs there.  

The best thing about Dottie Hinson is the way her lips taste like Cracker Jack.

 

He swallows, pulls his focus back to the present. To the reporter waiting for a pull quote, a summary, as if Dottie Hinson can be captured in ten words or less. 

"The best thing about Dottie Hinson is. . ." He strokes his chin, glances away from the moment, to the bus, the girls chattering, hanging out windows, the dust settling after the afternoon flurry of activity. Dottie leans by the door, absently rubbing a shoulder. Waiting for him.   
  
"She know what she wants."


End file.
